I can still see this face. Ahh! One of the only larger-than-life smiles we caught on camera. Your incredibly full, full, full cheeks, your little-old-man “whispy” hair, and your un-canny resemblance to your dada.

Or, how about this one, you little butterfly!

It was a weekday, and you and I were “cruising” the mall with Gram. You looked like this little fairy princess, and you received compliments galore. I’ll never forget sipping my Paradise Ice Tea & eating my chocolate chip cookie (always necessary when visiting the mall, even during post-baby-weight-loss-plan…the caffeine plus chocolate is a recipe for the happiest-mama-on-the-block).

And thinking to myself, this is PARADISE…being here with my mama, you, and me.

Three generations together, my dream come true.

Pretty in Pink.

Do you know how many times I said that?

I think daily, because you were are almost in Pink Daily.

You wore this little juicy outfit many times. Oh, and that headband, too.

You were five months, and I can still see you barely able to balance on our couch.

You almost tumbled over, and your dada ran faster than lightening to catch you.We caught our breaths, and laughed the way you laugh when it was almost a big “uh-oh” and sighed in sweet relief you didn’t fall. I think you knew too, because you smiled (a little) and giggled as well!Oh…What we do in the name of photo-shoots! If a picture is really worth a thousand words, I would say…this one is a winner!

When did I stop calling you “SG” and started calling you by a million of your other nicknames? I think it really began when you started developing your own personality. You have become “Samantha-Mum”, “Mantha-Pants”, “Sammi-Girl”, “Sam” and the ever darling “Samantha-Grace”.Oh, and we occasionally call you “Samantha” as well 🙂

Your becoming you, more, and more each day.

Less of the delicate and docile “SG” and more hear-me-roar.

What can I say, you have your dad and I to blame.

Ruby’s Diner-A YEAR old!

Oh, the difference a year makes!

Growing up, we had a tradition of always going to Ruby’s on our birthday’s. And of course, being that I loved it, were keeping it “living on”.

Awhile back, I (yes, mama’s to blame) started calling everything a “choo-choo” that made loud sounds.

It all began very innocently when Mantha’ started seeing chop-choo trains.

She saw the choo-choo and would scream at it at the beach-

“Mama—-CHOOOO-CHOOOO”.

And I would smile and laugh and we would giggle.

Then, quickly after learning that something “loud” equaled a “choo-choo”, we (SHE) began labeling all things choo-choo’s.

I thought it was adorable, and didn’t really correct the labeling issue.

Parenting mistake, numero uno.

Now, friends, everything, and I mean everything that makes a loud noise is a choo-choo.

1. A motorcycle

2. A lawnmower

3. A car

4. A bus

5. A plane

6. And, yup, a train.

So, now, in hopes of her one day not going to pre-school completely confused on all things that MOVE are called, I now say:

1. A choo-choo MOTORCYCLE

2. A choo-chooo LAWNMOWER

3. A choo-choo CAR

4. A choo-choo BUS

5. A choo-choo PLANE

6. A choo-choo train.

I do completely understand items 1-5 are not choo-choo’s.

But, number 6 counts right?!

Getting Ready.

In other equally related, “questionable mothering decisions”, we (SHE) started watching other little friends we would meet toss coins in the Starbucks pool fountain.

She thought it was the coolest thing she had ever seen.

After realizing that we (SHE) couldn’t swim in said water (this is also cause for tears- I mean I literally am the meanest mama…I mean I won’t let her get in this water, even though she recently brought a swim diaper with her, thinking that if we (SHE) remembered the diaper, she could magically go in the water).

(Whole other parenting issue).

Back to the coins.

I mean the money.

As I was trying to catch my breath, and sit for two point two seconds, she reaches in the stroller, and grabs my wallet. Not thinking much of this, (she thinks rearranging my wallet is a daily necessary activity) she begins to grab all the money out of the center.

And then, proceeds to walk over to the Starbucks pool fountain, and throw as many bills in as she can.

Dumbfounded, and laughing hysterically (I couldn’t stop), I was frozen in a state of SHOCK.

I mean, last week we went from learning to throw pennies to now twenties?!!

See Mom, I have this.

A Twenty & A Ten.This Should Be Perfect.

Almost Made It.

You can imagine the horror on the other coffee sipper’s faces as they took in the sights of the two of us.

I literally heard one ten year old behind me look at his mama and say-

“Mom, How COOL, that kid is throwing real money in the fountain”.

Sigh***

Only, my kid.

So, after my laughing had almost subsided, (she thought the laughing meant this was not only correct behavior, but the BEST thing ever!!).

Trying to “clean”, “organize”, “put in piles”, “do laundry”, “start dinner” (or should I say “complete dinner”), “respond to emails”, and overall “keep a clean, and warm, and inviting home”

(yes, I just said that phrase, so 1950’s huh?!)

somedays proves to be a challenge.

Oh, shucks, I’ll just be honest, EVERYDAY proves to be a challenge.

Some days we encounter minor hiccups.

Some days we face major meltdowns.

Totally par for the course.Subject Lines on My Job Description.Part of being a mama.

While I have friends who have children who play happily while their mothers shower(mine prefers shooting shaving gel all over herself and splashing in the stall with me),and enjoy really participating in the laundry process (rather than completely destroying the progress I have made), I have semi-come to terms with the fact that this is not my child.

Meet Mine.

She prefers constant activity (the apple doesn’t fall far from the apple tree), and if she were to choose a “acceptable” activity while I go about day to day “house becoming a home” business, she would choose parking herself in front of our large TV downstairs, with the iPad in her hand and my iPhone in the other.Speaking of Apple.For the Love.

Her Happy Techy Place.

So, finding things to do to “keep her busy” while I’m trying to survive beautify our home, sometimes feels like planning a sweet sixteen party.

And not those mellow ones, I’m speaking more along the lines of the kinds you see on MTV.

And speaking of MTV, lets talk about my crib.And my content battle to keep this place not only looking livable, but feeling lovable as well.

Survival Items.

While some would prescribe to the parenting perspective of encouraging Samantha towards more imaginative play or possibly more independent play, I would say spend thirty minutes in my shoes, and you help come up with solutions to my anti-craft, water obsessed child.

As my brother put it this morning after spending an hour with Samantha, stealing the words completely out of his mouth,“I am already ready for a nap”.

In my quiet reflections (rare), I sometimes have a good chuckle with the Lord about this sweet dear gift He gave me.

She is so much like me its haunting, and her bent towards all my favorite things (and personality power struggles) proves both the Lord’s sense of humor as well as His desire to develop character in me.

Most challenging thing?

Raising a child just like yourself.

You see all the good & bad through a magnifying glass!

Mini-Me.Yes, that is “war-paint” on her cheeks from our “Paint, Paste & Pour Class” Before Nap Time..

Yesterday, I attempted some major (three hours of inside time) upstairs & downstairs cleaning. For as little as my little person is, she sure knows how to make a larger than life mess.

I used the Molly Maid approach, of cleaning room to room.(Is that their approach? If not, I’m claiming it).

I would shut the door once the room had been quickly groomed.

The problem was realizing I forgot something in one room, and leaving and coming back to the other to find books tossed over the ocean of clean carpet, folded clothes spread amuck, and cherrios being splashed with her water bottle.

This kid will do anything to involve water in every activity.

Occupying the Outside.

We finally moved downstairs after the upstairs had been cleaned as best as it was going to get and Samantha quickly re-discovered the bag of freeze-dried-trader-joes-blueberries.Seriously?!!

This Mama’s one word of advice when your child asks for a bag in the store:

RUN.

They stain like crazy, they die everything in sight, and create for a big, BLUE mess.

So, while un-loading and re-loading the dishwasher, I decided to give into this willy wonka like desire.It was a mess.Mess+Mess=Looky Here…MORE MESS.

Solution. Go PLAY OUTSIDE.Heck, Occupy if for all I care.Pitch a tent, and get comfy.

What…Its cold??

She spent the better part of the next half hour post-blue’s pouring water all over our backyard and sitting in her pink pool fully clothed in 65 degree temperatures.

Don’t Judge.

When mama’s say that desperate times call for desperate measures, this my friends was one of these times.

I was super set on getting another load in the wash, and the preceding load folded.

I have fought the battle before, and the opposite usually rings true.Just let it be, I tell myself.

And, that, is an exercise for me, as well, in letting go.Daily.

Not everything always has to be super perfect and squeakily clean.

But sometimes, its a gosh darn treat to look around and see everything put in there proper spot.

It brings peace to my soul and a smile to my hubby’s face.

I appreciate these little things.

When you “work from home” as I do,there is a sense of overall peace to this place when its not a pig-pen.

For once, I was set on “getting-her-done” and figuring out anything and everything to occupy this child to achieve the House turning into Home affect.

I leaned into it yesterday, and Molly Maid rubbed off on me a bit,

and I became a bit more Haley Homemaker.

Sometimes, to get “things” done, other “things” have to be let go of.

And while other days, somethings have to be “let go of” for the sake of sanity and our children’s sake’s.I choose Sanity Yesterday, yup, I admit it.So the sanity for squeaky clean got in a fight with a toddling toddler, and I think we both won judging by the look on her face sitting in her pink pool with clothes at 4 p.m. yesterday.

By the time five p.m. rolls around today, you will probably see only little bits and pieces of Molly Maid’s lasting remnants around here. (Maybe I will shut the door to my master & block off the living room).Yes, yes, that’s a good solution.

You will probably more likely see new little “mess’s”-dishes stacked up prepared with dinner ingredients, loud music playing (my daughter’s preference), water being poured on something, the playroom happily re-cluttered by our daughter, our driveway being covered in chalk, and the washer and dryer humming with yet again another load of wash to be cleaned and clothes to be folded.

Molly Maid will have long disappeared and Merry Mama will be laughing, leaning into the new piles to clean, clothes to fold, dishes to wash, floor to scrub, and trash to be taken out.

And as I remember lovingly standing in the doorway overlooking a perfectly cleaned home last night, I will look around tonight among the mess, (God Bless IT), and do my best to remember that living is better than cleaning, and life is really all about the hands at my table.

The hands of my HOT :), hardworking hubby I love so much, and the stained blueberry hands of my water-infatuated daughter.

My hands, give life to their hands.Yes, all that scrubbing, changing, holding, cuddling, touching, being, gives them life. Their hands give life to mine.They remind me what’s important, what to hold on to, and what to let go of.

Even when their hands turn merry mama into molly maid.God Bless Them.Seriously.

Because ultimately, I wouldn’t be merry or a mama without them.

On second thought, maybe Merry Mama has a thing or two to teach Molly Maid.